


Fools Gold

by Kit_Kat_Kate



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alibaba has strong opinions on absolute monarchy, Balbadd it's time for your political/legal makeover, F/M, Female Alibaba Saluja, Mental Health Issues, Politics, SI/OC, Self-Insert, also empires - looking at you kou, so thats gonna be fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-03-07 02:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13424709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_Kat_Kate/pseuds/Kit_Kat_Kate
Summary: Alibaba was a young man destined to rise to exceptional heights at the side of Aladdin. There's just one small problem.Alibaba is a old/young woman, who is tired and angry at a world very different from her own.  Can a law/political science major make it through the maze of Balbadd politics as the Kou empire grows larger by the year? Probably not. But she's going to try anyway!





	1. A Name

I remember some things.

Debating political idea’s, dancing to 80’s pop with friends, passing exams, fighting with family, making up with family. These are all things that flash through my mind as I blink and wail. 

But the one memory that stands clear above all else is not about life, but rather how I died. Trapped, screaming as the earth shook and everything fell apart. Trapped in the darkness and rock unable to breath feeling too little and to much pain pain pain, oh god why is everything so so slow so fast breathing choking eyes filled with tears and pain pain pain pain…...

Until finally there came darkness and an end to pain. 

I am a child that much is clear to me. There was pain and then darkness and then the nothingness, at the thought of that I shake. I don't know what the nothingness is but I was alone in it for what felt like an eternity until I wasn’t. 

Anyway, I am a child now and a young one, only a baby. I cannot talk, cannot move and the world around me is so very agonizingly bright and loud. And I hate to admit it but I am afraid constantly. I know nothing of what has happened or will happen to me and it eats at me inside even as I try to move, to learn to speak, to remember my name.  
A name a name my kingdom for a name, what am I without a name? I cry and cry and cry but the name does not come and my mind does not leap the way it used to.

Time passes. Slow unbearable in its simplicity for I am trapped in this body of a child who cannot yet comprehend the world around it. Even as my adult mind attempts to force it to do so.  
Despite all this, I grow and as I do the world becomes a bit less bright and a bit less loud and more manageable, my second mother is glad I am sure that I have stopped weeping at the bright bright light. 

And with the growth comes an unexpected joy. A name. I have a name once more. It is Alibaba. A strange name for a young girl, but it is a name and it is mine and I say it over and over in burbles and chirps. My new mother laughs and praises me delighted in my speed at picking up words (even if it is just one word repeated again and again). I think I am around a year now, beginning to burble words and crawl. Soon I shall walk and talk is all I can think. Even with all the fears I have about the new society I have been born into communication and movement are so enticing that for the first time in 12 months I can push that fear to the back of my mind.

I am Alibaba now, a small girl with a boys name. I am Alibaba-who-once-was-someone-else and my mother and I live in a small mudrock house-room on scum street in the whore’s area of the slums of Balbadd.I do not have a father or siblings. It is just me and my mother in this tiny house. Soon I will know more. The thought rings in my mind. When I know more I can begin the slow process of piecing my life together again, understanding just who Alibaba is.

I do not know why I am alive. Or why I appear to have gone back in time to some strange skewed version of the middle east. But I am alive. And when the light floods the room and the smells and noise of life from the street flood the room it feels like a small victory rather than a nightmare.


	2. The people of Scum Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venturing outside Alibaba starts to meet people ...

Balbadd is strange and terrible. This is a statement I can say with utter certainty.

My mother Anise is sweet and good and kind is a prostitute by poverty not by choice. She comes home every night wincing, bruises on her hands and knees and on one awful awful night black and blue fingerprints around her neck. Yet every night she smiles at me. Gives me the largest portion of food and tells me in a soft voice about the people she sees on the street. 

Aida who sells split lentil soup that tastes like heaven and curses like one of the sailors from the port.

Aziz who is a fisherman from the port and is madly in love with Aida and shows it by carrying sacks of dried lentils all the way from the port every night on his long trek home.

Rostam-who-was-a-girl-but-is-a-boy who visits her at least once a month and brings scraps of bright fabrics as gifts along with coin. I like it when he visits my mum. She always comes home smiling.

Kaveh who is blind and sells woven baskets on the third corner of the main junk area and always gives food to the birds every third day. He loves three’s my mother explains, but no one knows why.

Zahra who is only 13 and works the same area as my mother. Whenever she tells me stories about Zahra she holds me tight and her voice wobbles. Zahra ran away but had nowhere to run to. So she ended up here. Whenever I hear about Zahra I try not to cry.

The slums are terrible even if the people who live there aren’t. 

In my old life the one from before-Alibaba I had a home a big one with a bed, food whenever my body felt hungry and books for when my mind felt ravenous. 

My home now is a room with mud walls and a rough woven carpet to sleep on. A striped curtain makes up a door and whenever it rains we roll up the carpet and gather everything we own so that we can sit on our one wooden bench and not get wet.  
I eat well in comparison to some. A meal at first light and a meal at last. But my mind weeps for I do not know how I shall ever learn to read or write here for no one in the entire lane knows enough to teach me. 

I am three now and have finally gained enough control of my ungainly limbs that I am confident enough to leave the house for small walks during the day. 

Balbadd is cruel. It is a trading city built upon islands and merchants and a monarchy. There are no politicians here who cry for reform or talk to the people in the lowest most stamped down areas of the city. My last life was filled with opinions, debates and eventually protests. Here I would not know how to begin. 

I muse over this my lack of control and beginnings as I walk my eyes flutter closed and I try to visualise the world I want to be in. To my great alarm, it grows blurrier by the day. 

Then suddenly,   
contact  
ground   
ouch, Jesus fucking christ my leg hurts.

“Whatsamatta with you brat?” an irritable high pitch voice growls. Cantcha see where you’re goin’ blind as well as mute you stupid lackwit”

Oh dear, I appear to have slammed into a boy a bit older than me. My eyes absently note his messy black dreadlocks and gold eyes. He wears only a messy tunic though, so is likely a resident.

“I am not mute or blind” I retort “nor am I lacking in wit” he opens his mouth probably preparing another tirade, my goodness for someone maybe one or two years older than me he has amassed quite the vocabulary. I stand up dusting off my tunic.

“I am sorry for hitting you though, it was my mistake. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I cut him of apologizing quickly, with any luck that should steer him of and I can go back to talking with Rostam-who-was-a-girl-but-is-a-boy about colours. 

“YOU DIDN’T HURT ME” he shouts indignantly “As if a pipsqueak boy like you could ever hurt me, I’m Cassim one of the toughest kids on scum street!” He’s fuming now his gold eyes flashing and his dreadlocks swaying as he shakes his head. I try not to smile he looks like a furious kitten eyes blazing little claws flailing around as he’s picked up by the scruff of his neck, it’s adorable in a vicious kind of way.

My smile despite my best intentions breaks through “I am a girl, not a boy and I have a name” I pause for a moment even after all these years I love the sound of my name, love the fact that I have one once again “it is Alibaba and I am three”. 

He stops flailing and starts rattling off questions “you’re a girl then why is your hair so short? why'd you talk so weird too? Are you even from here?”

 

“I am a girl, my hair is short because it’s easier to keep clean and my mother is Anise” I turn and point down the road “I live three corners down and one across from here. I came to talk to Rostam about the colour of the-sun-on-water and the sky-clouds-at-night. I didn't mean to hit you Cassim even if it didn’t hurt” 

He stops clenches and unclenches his fists and finally sighs, tension rolling off his body. “It’s alright” he mutters “you didn’ mean to”. 

I smile again. He is sweet, in a strange way. “You are Cassim toughest of the Scum Street kids yes? How old are you and why are your eyes gold? 

He snorts and looks at me with quirked eyebrows and crooked smile “your eyes are gold too moron, brighter than mine same shade as your hair.” He pauses tugs a dreadlock absentmindedly and continues “and I’m five years old.” His stomach rumbles and he curls an arm over it protectively and glares fiercely at me daring me to comment on any perceived weakness.  
And my heart tears a bit. Because he's so very small and fierce in a way that screams defiance (nothing you can do will hurt me c'mon just try it).

Before I even realise what I’m doing my arm is outstretched palm facing up “come with me, we can go see if Aida needs bowls washed or kindling fetched” I say “if we do that we’re allowed to eat whatever's left in the pot once the customers are done.” He pauses warily and then places his hand on mine. Just barely. Enough to touch my fingers but lightly so he can up and run. I smile my brightest shit slinging you can’t escape smile squeeze his hand as tight as I can and turn to run towards Aida’s stall. 

It makes sense, after all, in my last life I had a habit of feeding strays. It appears to have followed me into this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the 2nd chapter thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments last chapter they were greatly appreciated! 
> 
> NOTES  
> \- The manga/anime skimmed over a lot in Alibaba's childhood but my take on it is that no matter how nice Anise was there was no way that being a sex worker in the poorest part of an ancient city made for a comfortable or safe career. In this version Alibaba's a girl, so there's also going to be the worry of her being forced into the sex trade at a young age as was common then.


	3. "Let's be friends!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassim is a small stray cat of rage and bashfulness that Alibaba-who-is-a-girl-not-a-boy would like to adopt.

In the weeks following my meeting with Cassim I spend more time on the street than at home.

Before I had stayed inside for as long as I could, only going out when I thought the isolation might truly drive me insane and even then only talking to the select few Anise had introduced me too. But Cassim has given me purpose, reminded me that regardless of my circumstances there are things I can do. It seems that no matter what I am staying here, so I might as well make the best of it. 

My mind has finally connected the dots between my mother's sad heart-wrenching stares when the light hits my golden hair and her tales of Zahra. It is not a fate I am willing to passively accept. The idea of being a thirteen-year-old girl walking the streets turns my stomach and makes my hands shake so much that my mother has to hold them in hers and trace the lifelines on my palms until I calm down again. 

Then suddenly

contact, 

ground, 

fuckin shit why does this keep happeni-but instead of the scenario playing out again two hands shoot out and grab my elbows digging into my flesh and dragging me back up.

“Ya just can’t keep your feet can ya? Seems to me you spend far too much time in your head and not enough on the street” a sharp voice informs me. 

I sigh and look up already seeing a smirk far too wicked for any five-year-old in my mind. 

Cassim is standing in front of me, hands still gripping my elbows. And no surprise he’s smirking. What is surprising however is what’s or rather who's behind him. Ever so slightly to the left, there's a small child with dreadlock pigtails and dark gold eyes. 

Who he turns to "This is the brat I told ya bout Miri, the one who’s from here but talks funny”. 

The girl ‘Miri?’, lets out a little snort and nods her head. I heave a sigh (an action I am beginning to believe will become frequent in my interactions with Cassim) 

“you're hardly in the position to call anyone a brat Cassim, especially not me.”

He opens his mouth chest puffing out clearly gaining breath for a lengthy retort so I quickly tack a question on to my previous statement 

“who is this behind you?” 

The quickest way to stop a vicious quarrel between me and the tetchy five-year-old that I have figured out is to ask Cassim a question. He stops to answer and tends to lose his train of argument.

“This is Miriam she's my Lil’; sista I tol’ her bout you and the lentil soup”. He then bites his lower lip, snuffles slightly and adds on grudgingly “I owe you one”. 

I swallow my throats clogged with feelings as bitter and stinging as acid.  
Cassim shouldn't be worrying about owing me favours for the small pittance of kindness I had offered him, shouldn't be watching me with one eye and keeping the other on the street with a firm hand on Miriam's thin wrist. So I don’t answer him, can’t answer because if I do I may cry and I am certain he would never forgive me for that. 

So instead I crouch down a little and break out a smile perfected through long years of babysitting. “Hello Miriam my name is Alibaba and I am three”

She looks up a little bit meeting my eyes and her grip on Cassim's hand loosens just a little, 

“your big brother thinks it's a dumb name for a girl but I like it because it's mine.”

She giggles a tiny bit at that and lets go of Cassims hand completely leaning forward

“brother is righ’ you do talk funny” she smiles and it lights up her face with a joy that most people here lack

“that's okay though cos big brother thinks it's a nice way of talkin’ so he won’ let you get beat on by tha bigger kids.” She smiles toothily, nods firmly and slips her left hand into mine and her right into Cassim’s decision on my place in relation to her and her brother clearly made In her mind.

To my great surprise, Cassim has turned a violent shade of Scarlet. (The kind that Rostam had once informed me could only be achieved by crushing the scaled insects that fed on trees in Parthevia a country in the west) 

He huffs irritably although his glare held no heat “no arguin’ with you is there huh Miri ya lil brat” and starts walking pulling Miriam and me with him. “You’ll run with us from now on” he informs me, tone leaving no question that the matter is sorted out in his mind also.

“I’ll keep any from beatin on ya and you’ll help me watch Miri. Itsa fair deal whaddya say?”

I dig my heels into the dry dirt slightly so he has to stop and turn to meet my eyes 

“Let's be friends Cassim. Friends don’t need to make deals not spoken ones anyway. I want to be your friend very much.”

Cassim looks at me as if I were speaking another language. A complicated one. 

Regardless of the blankness in his eyes I push on, the idea is formed in my mind now. I want Cassim to be my friend and I want him to trust me.

Because in his eyes I can see that he doesn’t really trust anyone. That he’s angry at things he doesn’t yet understand and tired and so unbearably heartbreakingly lonely standing there one hand reaching for his sister like he's scared she’ll disappear the other one clenched so tight his knuckles are going white. I want it because I’ve spent three years trying to remember a name that doesn't exist anymore staying in a mud brick room afraid of going outside.

He’s the first person my physical age that I’ve talked with for any length of time and the thought of that makes me do something exceptionally foolish by any standard.

I lunge forward and grab him firmly by his left forearm my small hands wrapping like a vice around the limb.

He yelps in what I can only describe as genuine bewilderment and swings his right arm around aiming to clip my ear, but my reflexes in this body are far superior to my old one, even with three-year-old hand to eye coordination. So I duck and cling to his arm in a parody of a hug. 

“I want to be your friend Cassim and Miriam's too, let's be friends!”

He growls again and tries to shake me off tugging at my hair and stomping on my feet.

It's a vicious competition and going by some of the entertained snorts I can hear from passersby an amusing spectacle. 

But then he looks down at me for one second then two until it seems to stretch into minutes. I don’t know what it is he sees as I meet his eyes and grip his arm tighter but he eventually shakes his arm once experimentally and then huffs 

“Let go brat I said you'd run with me didn’ I? That means we’re friends it means I trust ya ta have my back if ya don wanna call in your debts that's your funeral but I owe ya one anyway." 

He pauses again and then straightens up and says in a voice that sounds a thousand years older than he is

“We’ll be friends.” 

Miriam is beaming up at me (she's regained her grip on my hand, when did she manage that?) and I feel like I’m holding the most fragile glass orb in my hand. That one misstep could break the tenuous trust I've been granted. So I swallow, meet his gaze and nod.

“I’m very glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I'm so sorry about the late (very late) update. I can only plead a change in meds as an explanation and promise I will try harder!   
> One of my problems as a writer is that I get very caught up in concepts and research about culture and history for a world and fall behind in writing (For you dear reader I am even struggling my way through some economic theory). So feel free to flick me a note asking for an update if I'm running late it shall only motivate me =).


	4. A series of events

“I just don’ see why ya need this” Cassim is eying me dubiously.

“In the years you’ve known me have I ever asked for something without having a good reason behind it” I respond blithely. 

“I’ve known you for two years and in those years you’ve gone searchin’ for things that don’ even exist, Ali, I think it's reasonable for me to ask ya what you need it for an why I had ta nick it.” Cassim is frowning down at me now, arms crossed over his chest scars on his legs standing out. 

Two months ago the city guards had caught him with his fingers in one of the banker's servants pockets. They had whipped his legs and feet with a thin cane and left him at the fifth corner of scum street bleeding and unable to walk. It was just good luck that the guards had decided not to throw him in the cages.

I found him as I was walking home, helping Aida carry her lentil pots and sniggering as Aziz made moon eyes at her even as Aida loudly talked about how she had killed her second husband with naught but a spatula and a month old loaf of black bread. I was laughing as she got to a particularly gruesome part of the tale when I saw a shivering bundle of rags and dreadlocks that I’d know anywhere. I cried out sound tearing from my throat in a wail. Bawling my eyes out as Aida softly rubbed Cassim's back and Aziz hoisted him gently up into his arms.

He was so unbearably still his legs soaked in blood tear tracks fresh on his dusty face. We walked in silence apart from Aziz’s quiet murmurings to the boy in his arms. I had stopped crying instead all I could feel was a fire burning in my stomach in my head and my chest vicious and painful. I was so terribly angry. A hand grabbed mine forcing apart my fingers which had been digging into my palm. “Breathe” Aida commanded her back straight like a ruler, eyes hooded “Breath and keep walking, you don’t want to cause a commotion right now.” 

So I took a deep breath filling my lungs as much as I could and we walked Cassim all the way home. 

His father beat him again for being caught.

Me and Miri traveled out of the slums through the city every day to fetch salt water from the harbour to wash his cuts with. By some minor miracle they didn't get infected and within the month he could run as he always had. 

I can’t forget it though. It makes me sick and angry, clawing up my throat and burning in my mouth. I clutch it tight to my chest though. Aida looked at me the day after and sighed “just more fuel for the fire girl, that's all it is just more fuel”

I murmur it again as Cassim stands to look down at me, scars on display “just more fuel that's all it is” “what're you mumblin’ for”

I shake myself slightly returning to the present and look up at Cassim beaming “I’m going to learn to read and this is going to help me”. His eyes gain an argumentative gleam that I am at this point intimately familiar with so I leap back into my master plan again

“this is a papyrus scroll it’s what the scribes who work at the docks use to note down cargo and tax on. I’m going to figure out who’s it is, translate it and use it to convince them to teach me” 

“and if it doesn’ work?”

“Then you're going to get a lot of experience in stealing scrolls from scribes.” 

“Fair enough, I don’ know why ya think that'll be so importan’ but it's decen’ practice. You get cracking on that scroll thing then.” He wriggles his fingers and grins seemingly pleased with the dexterity of them “can’ hurt ta have one person round to read all the stupid shit tha nobles get up to”

And I do. Get to work that is, hunched over the scroll all day ignoring the dust kicked up by the crowds passing by. (It’s dry season again, the canals that line the inner city slicing it into sections are running so low that the barges can’t always make there daily trek around the city.)

It's taxing work.  
My mind might have had experience and a rough idea of how to go about deciphering the scroll. But I had very little to go off beyond that the script seemed to be a strange blend of Arabic, Phoenician and something I can’t name. 

So I fiddle around for days on end. Stopping only for water, food and rest working methodically through different combinations for each word or phrase piecing it together until I get something that starts to make a bit of sense. 

 

"Shakeel Fahim / section twelve, Avek docks / midday shift 

Ship - Kirin / Affiliation - Kou / Captain - Li Zheng / Crew - 19

Cargo - silk (25 bolts) / rice (40 sacks) / plum wine (3 caskets) / various trinkets (roughly 7 sacks) / 1 creepy snake

The merchant ship Kirin captained by Li Zheng arrived in Balbadd at the Avek docks on the 17th day of the third month in the 29th year of King Rashid Saluja’s reign. Having found neither contraband, illegal articles or intention to harm Balbadd in the ship or crew and upon seeing their papers in order, I Shakeel Fahim scribe of Balbadd grant them entry to the country of Balbadd. Except for the snake. That thing stays on the fucking boat. I don’t trust it. No one reads these reports anyway. So the snake doesn’t get to set a scale on dry land while I have power and there isn’t a goddamn thing you can do about it."

 

I’m not sure I translated the last part right. It seems a bit nonsensical for an official document. But if I did, well I could be dealing with a colourful personality.

Something sticks out though. I’ve heard that name somewhere. “Fahim”. Well, nothing wrong with asking around, after all, knowledge is power.

I walk to the third corner where blind Kaveh who loves threes sits. Kaveh knows everything that goes on. People seem to forget that he’s blind, not deaf so tend to talk freely in front of him as he sits there weaving his reed baskets and tapping his cane in sequences of three on the ground. 

In other words, the undisputed king of gossip and stories in the slums is Kaveh. It makes him a good person to know.

“Hey, old man Kaveh can I ask ……”

In the middle of my sentence, a cane whips out with unnerving accuracy and smacks me behind my knees causing me to tumble backward landing on a dusty street. 

“Kaveh what gives” I whine looking up through bleary eyes.

“Old man Kaveh! You’ve got some nerve little Alibaba I am in the prime of my life I’ll have you know know know.” 

“Whatever you say Kaveh, all I’m saying is that in terms of my age and yours you are infinitely older.”

That makes him huff a dry laugh tongue flicking out to wet dry lips “You always try to say things to make your blunder better and end up making it worse you know that right kid kid kid.” 

He heaves a sigh and pats the spot beside him with his weathered hand. “Alright what do you need to know this time, going by the way you scrambled over here it’s not a story story story.” 

“No Kaveh it’s not. This is important I need to know what significance the name ‘Fahim’ has.”

“Fahim you say”

I nod emphatically “uh huh”

“Well the Fahims are a family of scribe and scholars” he pauses and looks at me for a while eyes slightly narrowed “An old family, they’ve been around almost as long as our monarchs the Saluja’s and they’re renowned for their academic ability. The family makes up most of the higher up scribes in the palace and trade centers and in the past they’ve had members appointed as minister of the coin.” 

He tilts his head back lightly as if to examine the sky. “They might not be an official noble family but they’re far more powerful than some of the official ones so whatever it is your planning keep that in mind little Alibaba.” I nod lost in thought 

“One more question Kaveh, do members of the family ever do lower scribe work?”

That made him pause and tap his fingers together once, twice, thrice before he cleared his throat to answer “it would be unlikely to find them in areas like the bazaar’s, cages or docks but…” he shrugs slightly tugging an awry reed straight “anything can happen.”

The next day dawns and my mother tugs on my short gold locks lightly “It’s the second hour of sun Ali I have to go to work now.”

She smiles down at me “I’ll bring back kebabs for dinner tonight as treat” 

I sit up hands grabbing my mothers laughing as she pulls me up like I weigh nothing “if it’s a treat day that means its a Rostam day doesn’t it?”

My mother blushes a bright red her mouth slightly open as she stammers words in no specific pattern

“I don’t mind mum Rostam is nice and his smiles are warm like yours”

“My little girl, sometimes you aren’t little at all are you” she pauses her eyes lightly moist “you’ve had to grow up so quickly, so much faster than I ever wanted you too” 

I swallow because if there's one thing I’ve been blessed with in this confusing life it’s my mother “I love you, please be safe at work” 

She leans down for one last hug “I will be and when I come home we’ll have kebabs, you can share them with Cassim and Miriam and I’ll share some with Rostam and we’ll all eat chicken and fruit until our bellies burst”

My mother leaves taking her jangling bronze jewelry and soft incense scent with her. 

I carefully wrap the scroll in rough linen and tie it to my back. Hunching my shoulders and not meeting anyone's eyes I walk through the alleyways and bustling markets fists clenching tighter the further I walk from my neighborhood. The further away I get the wider the streets are. People are shouting wares, bustling around servants gather supplies for the week, merchants and stall holders laying out wares, shouting price and enticements, foreigners staring at the chaos. This is where worlds meet and it shows in the streets of the city.

Balbadd is huge and even with me sneaking onto one of the barges that travel the canals it takes me three hours to reach the docks. As I jump onto the docking bay and scramble up the wood I pull myself up, check the scroll is still firmly in place and take a deep steadying breathe before marching towards Avek docks. 

I walk along section twelve planks creaking under my feet scanning the scribes slowly trying to figure out which one is mine.

They’re all busy. Writing down notes and observations at a dizzying speed their green outer robe sleeves rolled up to avoid ink splashes but otherwise crisp and orderly. None of them seem the type to pettily enforce their power by refusing entry to a snake. 

And then I see him.

One of the tallest men I’ve ever seen lounging idly against one of the desks that the other scribes were using for writing. He's younger than the others and obviously bored playing with a golden ring with a green gem set in it. The others are sending him looks of distaste but no one is commenting or ordering him back to work despite the fact that he seems to be on the same level as them.

The midday shift is almost over so I untie the scroll from my back and walk over till I am behind him holding it tightly in my hands. 

“Shakeem Fahim?”

A pair of acid green eyes under carefully sculpted brows swings around to meet my gold ones raising slightly upon meeting my gaze

“Yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you're enjoying the story. Here's a couple of cultural notes.
> 
> \- The canals and barges had quite a few mentions in this chapter. This is the quickest way around the city for most citizens as horses, camels, and carriages are reserved for the wealthy (as was common in the time period magi is set). Balbadd is a trade city so it needs efficient ways to transport both people and goods once they've docked in the harbour. Time is money etc etc. This leads to large flat barges that travel from the harbour through the inner city to the outer and back. 
> 
> \- In terms of the dry season, I'm thinking of Balbadd as having a similar climate to India with its long stretches of dry heat and monsoon seasons. It also slots nicely in with trade as having a definite windy season makes trade far less risky and would be one of the many reasons merchants come to Balbadd (check out ancient Indian ocean trade pre-european)
> 
> \- I can't see the slums or anywhere in Balbadd (or even the magi universe) having a universal education system. In the ancient world, you were either born into a family where you were taught or you weren't. Education while available was, for the most part, concentrated amongst the wealthy and various scribe and merchant classes. So in this scenario, Alibaba makes the decision to seek one out.
> 
> See you next week, please comment and/or bug me for an update I love to hear from you!


	5. Meeting Shakeem Fahim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alibaba meets Shakem. A man who faces many challenges in his daily working life. Chief amongst them, his personality.

“Yes”

“I am Alibaba from the slums and this is yours”

I hold out the papyrus in front of me like a shield keeping my gaze locked with his eyes, strong and resolute desperately trying to disguise the way my hands are shaking. I hate confrontation, hate asking others for help, hate trying to smile when all I want to do is throw up. But I know how to argue. How to debate. 

So I start like any decent debater does. With something that will draw the audience in.

“40 bolts of silk, 25 sacks of rice, 3 caskets of plum wine, seven sacks worth of miscellaneous items and a snake that you did not like for reasons that were not apparent, but I'd guess because you were scared of it” his eyes have narrowed and he’s stood up fully now not slouching. 

He’s tall and if I’m honest I’m intimidated. But I have to finish.

“I took the wanted posters and the old weather readings from the outposts and used them to crack the alphabet and other phrases. No one in my area can read.” Here I take a deep breath “ I’m going to learn though, please teach me.” 

He’s looking at me dead on now his lips parted head tilted to the left. For someone who seems to hate snakes, his gaze reminds me of one. He doesn’t blink at all just stares eyes boring into mine.

“I can’t pay you now. But if you invest this time I swear I’ll become someone who can pay you back ten times over”. I meet his gaze eyes burning with frustration anger and unshed tears. “I’m from the slums but I won't stay there forever and you're going to want to know me when I leave. 

“You don’t talk like a slum dweller little girl, but you certainly look like one.” He finally tears his gaze away from mine “that accent would be hard to fake though, so I’ll bite” here he flashes his teeth grinning as he walks over and crouches down to my eye level. 

“Nothing but weather reports and wanted poster huh, you didn't do too badly, messed up the numbers but that's nothing that can’t be taught.” He muses out loud hand whipping out snatching the papyrus from my grasp as he speaks “you’re determined I’ll give you that”

Forgetting all the things that I want from this man tuition, respect, a single fucking chance to prove that I can do it and get me and the people I love out of the shithole we currently exist in I fall back to my default mode when someone snatches something from me (honed by years of slum life and friendship with Miriam who eats more than me or Cassim combined).

I squawk, flail my arms in an attempt to reach my paper shield and unleash my most furious glare (the one that makes even Cassim carefully put down whatever his sticky fingers have latched onto and step out of range).

It doesn’t work. Not even a little bit.

Instead, the patronising son of a bitch pats my head like a dog and stands up holding the papyrus above my reach. “Oooh I see you put a dot next to reappearing words, compared them and went with what was most likely in the context it appeared across the material you had”

I jump futilely trying to reach the papyrus but he just places a hand on my head and pushes me down before ruffling my hair and saying in a sing-song voice “you are a clever one aren’t you” 

How smart is this guy he acts like a flamboyant fool but he could tell how I decoded the scroll with minimal information and a single glance?

“I’m not a fuckin’ dog” I yelp, putting aside all questions of intelligence as the last remaining strand of my patience finally snaps “and I am smart, teach me and I’ll work harder than anyone else on this dock.”

I look up at him through the hair now in my eyes remembering his slouching pose and petty reasonings in contrast to the frantic, busy movements of the other scribes and add somewhat snidely “harder than you work down here that’s for certain.”

“And she has a bite as well as a bark, colour me interested.” 

He steps back and looks down considering “Alright you’ve convinced me I’ll teach you for as long as I’m confined to this miserable stretch of wood and you keep my interest. It’s an informal deal though so don’t expect anything exceptional”

I beam victory shining through every expression of body language my small frame contains before

"the hell was that for" I yelp nursing my head. He just laughs pulling back the scroll I gave him which he was now using as an impromptu club

“Don't get too cocky scrub. I'll teach you if you can figure out this puzzle in ..... oh I don’t know let's say until squeaky over there breaks his next quill” he gestures over to one of the scribes the next youngest compared to him I note absently. What I’m more interested in is his white-knuckle grip on his pen and the scattered feathers around his station.

“That's not as generous amount of time as it sounds like is it” I state my voice as dead as squeaky’s numerous quills

“No, but I’ll tell you what just by turning up here you’ve proven you have more of a spine than squeaky so no matter what the outcome you can feel better than a grown man as you leave in failure” he answered brightly

“Now as for the puzzle, let's see … you are trapped in a room with no way out but through three doors each of which leads to a room you must travel through to escape. On each door, there is a sign saying what is inside the room.

The first one says that within the room is a poison so deadly that one breath will kill. The second says that there is a family of assassins who live in the room and fight anyone who enters. The third door says that within the room is a pack of lions who have not eaten in years. Which door will you choose?”

“Just me as I am?” I query

“Just you as you are” comes the affable answer

I smile crookedly as I try not to panic fuck couldn’t have chosen one I’d heard before could he? Ok ok ok ok you are a 5 - 18-year-old fuck numbers got blurry fast you can do this. Wording look at the ……… oh. I blink once twice thrice internal monologue grinding to a halt as I notice the obvious clue in the wording, my smile becomes less crooked and more real as I take a deep breath to answer

“The third door,” I say confidently arms crossed over my chest looking up at him

“Are you sure there’s an entire pack of lions behind that door, you'd have more luck holding your breath through poison than fighting them off.” Shakeem tuts down at me mischief dancing in his eyes and oh my god my future teacher is a jerk

“I wouldn’t have to fight though would I, they haven’t eaten in years, that means they would have starved ages ago.” I spit out through gritted teeth glaring up at him as I rock back on my heels because honestly, a small child comes to him for help and he makes small child jump through hoops and tries to mislead small child even after the right answer is given. Sweet Solomon what an arsehole!

Shakeem is frowning at me looking down as if he isn’t seeing me …. Rather he’s looking at someone he knows. Before he blinks, shakes his head as if to clear it and lets out a despondent sigh “You picked up on that fast. Well a deal's a deal guttersnipe I’ll teach you to read and write”

“For as long as you’re assigned to the docks” I quickly cut in feeling absolutely certain that it’s best to affirm the terms of our deal as often as possible.

“Yes yes for as long as I’m on the docks, come by tomorrow at midday and I’ll teach you. We’ll sort out a regular time then.”

And then, as abruptly and mockingly as he’d entered this bizarre meeting he waggled his fingers turned and strode off down the docks leaving me with a vague sense that I had just made a terrible mistake that would improve my chances in life by leaps and bounds.

When I get home the dusk is setting in and I have to scramble through the streets and crowds as quickly as I can. Even as my feet and lungs burn, it's not safe to be out after dark in these streets. But I make it home and slip in through the coarse sacking fabric that makes our door. 

“Where have you been Ali? Cassim and Miriam say they haven't seen you all day.” 

It might sound like a calm question but I can tell from the way my mum is holding herself (back straight, head high, shoulders tense) and the way Rostam has his eyebrows raised behind her that the wrong answer here will put me in a world of trouble. Well, I’m a miserable liar so when in doubt tell the truth, although considering some of the circumstances perhaps not .. all of the truth.

“At the docks Ma, I’ve gotten an apprenticeship with one of the scribes on the Avek docks.” I stutter out meeting her eyes, trying to convey how desperately I want this.

At this Rostam, mouth falls open and his perfectly arched eyebrows shoot up to the top of his forehead and Anise, my second mother. Her eyes are blinking rapidly hope, fear and disbelief all contained in those warm brown orbs as she raises her shaking hands to her mouth 

“A scribes apprenticeship….. Ali is that… are you sure” she's stumbling over her words as if she's afraid that by saying it acknowledging it the opportunity will vanish into thin air.

“yes, yes I’m sure mum I found a scribes tablet and figured out what some of the words meant and the scribe said it was good and he’d teach me,” I say scrambling to get words out, to reassure her that this is real. But instead of smiling and nodding she gets up. Stands on her feet rocks back once twice and then. Leaves. She leaves. Lifts the sack curtain and walks out the door. And I’m left there standing in the candlelit room with Rostam. 

“I thought she would be happy” my voice is quiet as I stare at the door that my mother left through, “I thought that this was something she would want for me”

Rostam kneels down and puts a warm hand on my shoulder turning me to face him “She is, she is it’s just ya gotta understand little Alibaba, this it just doesn’ happen. Maybe once or twice some ‘ill claw together enough to get outta here. But an apprenticeship that’s different. Ya mum she’s happy an scared an everythin’ in between because…. Well, this is new territory and we don’ know wha’ comes with it.”

His voice is soft and warm like his hand and he gently pulls me into a hug “it’ll all be okay little Ali, we’ll get it sorted.”

He sits with me for what feels like forever rubbing my back and talking about anything he can come up with until my mother arrives home. She walks in hesitantly. Feet tip-tapping across the floor. Folding her legs beneath her gracefully she sits down next to me.

“I’m sorry for running off Ali. I just. I just didn’t know what to do.”

I snuggle into her arms burying my head in her shoulder and uh-huhing affirmatively.

“So I can do it, I want to learn”

She looks down at me face creased in a tender teary smile kohl around her eyes smudging and nods. Clunking our foreheads together and smoothing my hair with her hands she gets out an “I’m so proud of you” before we both dissolve into a pool of tears of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'm back! As you may have guessed by now the regular Sunday updates were a filthy filthy lie in a desperate attempt to lure you into reading this story. In all seriousness though sorry about the sporadic update schedule I'll try to be a bit more consistent. I hope you enjoyed this chapter... please comment, kudos etc. and if you have any questions feel free to ask me I'd love to talk =).


	6. A day of Fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle's of wits and battles of brawn Alibaba has her hands full as she begins to broaden her horizons.

I discover the real reason behind the tutoring quickly. It’s not out of my illustrious master's good heart or sense of justice. He’s bored out of his mind. The Fahim family chucked him to the docks for some offence he committed and ever since then he’s spent his time notating trade, pissing off those of lesser social status and swearing at seagulls. I wish I could say I felt sorry for him but…

“You're not done yet. What in blessed Solomons debatably good name are they teaching young scribes these days.” 

My master is apparently blessed with wit, intelligence, good looks and yet somehow even with this complete package still manages to be a complete arsehole. He's slouched lazily against a dock fence while I stand at his workstation copying down forms. It's infuriating.

“Take the time to instruct me master, and we might find out” before I had been nervous about my sharp tongue minding it carefully (no need to give him any reason to pull back on our deal right) but he seemed to delight in pulling all my sharp edges out of me. 

Squeaky smothered a snort at my deadpan line before the strain of two actions at once became too much for him, and he snapped his fifth quill of the day.

“Slander and blasphemy my tutelage is impeccable little scribe why I cannot think of a question I have not answered for you.” He laughs leaning forward as he talks playing with his ring again.

“I shouldn’t have to ask you to teach me the alphabet master it was a clear part of the agreement to teach me to write, also blasphemy are you a god now?” I snipe back because the level of arrogance this man holds, it's unbelievable!

“Well, I can promise that I have more power over both you and the country than any of the gods in either western or eastern continent. And what's that I hear the shouts of disapproval from my influential rich family over me taking a guttersnipe as an apprentice maybe I should listen to them.” He retorts and I sigh because it's hard to spar with someone who holds all the cards.

“Thank you for your guidance master Shakeem.”

“Uh huh, that's what I thought you said” he answers, smug and satisfied as a cat who has just shed hair on an important piece of fabric.

In all honesty, it's hard work. All banter aside Shakeem is, and he expects nothing less from any pupil he takes on casual or not. He pinches and prods at beliefs and systems even as he explains grammar to me. Snake eyes slitting open lazily as he does. I’ve already revealed far too much of myself, just a few days ago I’d confessed to no belief in gods (thankfully not a crime in Balbadd) causing him to nod approvingly. 

Shakeem hates gods. Just as much as the most radical firebrand atheists, I’d known he my last life. He despises them for reasons that seem deeply personal. I have not asked why. I doubt I ever will. I’ve had maybe two weeks of lessons, and I can tell the docks thing won’t be permanent. Everyone can. He’s not the type of person to stay on the sidelines forever, and he’s obviously smart enough to come up with a way out of whatever it was that landed him here.

I muse over all of this. My enigmatic master, the scribes on the rocks and my action-packed few weeks as I run feet slapping the ground. I’m trying to make it to the 4.00 barge. It cuts across Gullscry district all the way to Cutcoin district. The slums are just a fifteen-minute walk from there. 

It’s when I get to the second corner of Cutcoin I hear it. Screaming. A young girl is screaming. I break into a run.

“Where’s the fucking alcohol huh” It’s Cassim's father. He has his fist clenched around Cassim’s dreadlocks, and he’s jerking him around like a ragdoll. “Ran off with the alcohol money did ya, just like your whore mother” Miriam is screaming scrabbling in the street pounding her tiny fists against him and anything that comes within swinging distance. 

He slams his fist into Cassims stomach. 

He throws up bile.

And people just … hustle by. This is the slums no one’s going to stick their neck out over something like this.

But I’m not from the slums. Not really and Cassim is my friend so when he collapses my legs move of their own accord a cry ripping from my throats as I lunge forwards towards the vile sunnava bitch who’s beating my friend fists clenching. I’ve always been weak, always used words as weapons, god what I would give to be stronger in that moment. 

Because his body is in its early thirties and mine is just six, and it's no contest. His fist slams into my head and I join Cassim in the dirt.

And then somewhere through the pain, I hear yelling. It’s not shouting, it’s screaming. 

My mother is screaming. Oh oh goodness I think she’s swearing. I’ve never heard her swear before. I don’t understand my head is spinning, Miriam is sobbing, my mother is cursing and the world is turning around around around beneath me. It twists and spins and spins, and I close my eyes and embrace the darkness.

“Will this be okay?” I ask my mother.

Our room is crowded which makes sense. It was cozy for two, and at the moment there are two adults and three children crammed into it. I’m lying on the rug with Miriam cuddled up to my side, and Cassim is sitting just behind me back against the wall, eyes on the door. He won’t look away from it. If he does someone might come through without him knowing and that scares him. My mother sits on the ground legs tucked to one side, and Rostam is slumping against the other wall almost mimicking Cassims position. We are all scuffed and bruised.

“Of course it will Ali, stop fretting like a grandma” my mother tuts at me. 

She’s lying of course. Feeding her and me and keeping up rent is already hard. Two other children will require far more. Her hands knot into her dress slightly but when she looks up her eyes are firm as the solid earth beneath us. 

“You will not be returning to that man” she looks to Cassim meeting his eyes first and then to Miriam her gaze growing softer “stay here, stay with us it’ll be small, but there’s enough room.”

So in my cramped home at the age of six, I gain two things. A small scar on the right side of my forehead from where my head struck the ground and two new siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive!!!!! for reals though hope you enjoy the chapter!!

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my 1st fic's 1st chapter. This is pretty tentative stuff but I'll be posting cultural/personal notes at the bottom so if you're interested check it out. I'll try to update once a week on Sundays. (I'm in NZ so be aware of timezones). 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and come back to read more


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